Between Life and Death
by Fanuilos
Summary: With the school dance over, so are the illusions that the Niwa and the Hikari can continue as they have. With his life hanging in the balance, Satoshi is left to wonder why he tries to fight the inevitable.


**Disclaimer:** While I would be very, very happy if this is what Yukiri-sensei did next (or at least roughly) with Satoshi and Risa, do I even need to say they're not mine? No? Didn't think so. You're all so smart.

**Spoiler Warning:** This is meant to happen _right_ after Stage 4, Part 14.1, which is, as far as I know, the furthest Yukiru has gone. It's after Argentine, and after Insomnia. So if you have not read that, there will be spoilers in here for you. This is basically my wishful thinking as to what will happen next in the series.

**Rating:** I did T only because it deals with Hiwatari-kun's dark prospects. I probably didn't need to, but better safe than sorry.

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><p><strong>-Between Life and Death-<strong>

Everything.

Everything was coming to a head.

Soon, everything would end, one way or another. And in that end, where would he be? A cold chill ran up his spine as he remembered the ominous words spoken to him before he lost control.

_It's time to make a decision. Either you destroy Dark, and stay alive, or..._

_You die._

He knew. His time, already so little, was continually, unceasingly reduced by the curse that held him in its vice grip. The grains of sand were falling, burying him, and yet he hesitated. Why did he hesitate? Between life and death, he stood irresolute. Inevitable death and painful life each lay claim to him, and he hesitated.

Was it fear? Was it hope?

"Hiwatari-kun?"

A soft voice spoke his name; a sweet, familiar lilt slipped into his mind and shattered the darkness of his thoughts, only to replace it with a cold dread.

Still, his feet stopped. Wincing, he knew that he could not resume walking. She would know he had heard her.

"Hiwatari-kun, where are you going?" Harada-san queried, appearing behind him. Slowly, he turned his brooding gaze to her and realized how close he had passed by the school. In the heavy stupor of his ruminations, he failed to note quite where his feet had taken him.

"I'm going home," he said decidedly, hoping against hope that the finality of his tone would persuade her to leave him alone.

"I didn't see you except right at the beginning," she said conversationally as she approached him, as if she had not heard him. A mocking smile played on her lips as she tucked her hands behind her back. "What did you do, slip off for a little tête-à-tête?"

Again, he winced, then silently cursed himself for the outward display of weakness. She noticed his expression, and her smile vanished instantly.

"Hiwatari-kun, what's wrong?" she asked with concern, stepping nearer and grabbing his hand. With a hiss, he jerked his hand away from her hold, sharp pain shooting through his palm. He felt a trickle of blood slide over his fingers, his wound torn open again by her well meaning gesture.

"Hiwatari-kun?" she breathed, then reached for his arm, demanding resolutely, "Show me your hand."

Stepping away from her, he replied through clenched teeth, "I'm going home."

"No, you're not," she snapped, snatching at his wrist. He stepped back, easily evading her. "Hiwatari-kun, you're going to show me, or I'm going to follow you home!"

He stared for a moment at her indignant face, with her nostrils flaring in contained anger, and realized she meant it. Slowly, he extended his arm toward her, and her expression transformed at once into firm curiosity. Her fingers slipped around his wrist and she turned over his arm so she could see his hand. When she saw the cut running diagonally over his palm, aggravated and bleeding once again, her eyes widened.

"Hiwatari-kun, what happened?" she asked solemnly, lifting her apprehensive gaze to his face.

With his normal monotone, he responded, "It's nothing that you need to worry about."

Those words created a remarkable change in her expression. Her open worry faded into a pale, stern countenance, and her eyes turned flint hard. In an even, grim voice she said, "Hiwatari-kun, did you do this?"

A flash of anger shot through him, and he almost yanked away from her. He managed to suppress it quickly, and replied with his usual calm. "No, Harada-san. I would not do this. I would never have done it. I never will."

Swallowing back the bile that filled his mouth at the thought of what had nearly been accomplished by Kei's recklessness, he turned his eyes away from her, repeating, "I never will."

A soft brush against his skin made his eyes snap back to her. She, tracing her fingertips over his uninjured skin, seemed to be struggling to speak, though her lowered face made it hard for him to see her trembling lips.

Before he could disengage himself from her disconcerting touch, she sighed resolutely and pulled her ribbon from her hair. Glancing up at him, she said reprimandingly, "You should have taken care of this at once. It'll get infected like this."

"And wrapping that cloth around it is going to do me what good?" he queried as she gently wound the ribbon around his palm. She shot him a glare and answered, "My hair is clean, you know."

Not wishing to have a debate on the state of her hair, he submitted to her in silence. When she finished her work and knotted the ribbon, she glanced up at him with a proud smile, though she tried to disguise it.

"There. That'll do for now," she asserted, taking a small step back.

"Thank you, Harada-san," he murmured, curling his fingers so that they would not shake from the pain. With that, he turned away, ready to go home and forget the whole night in the oblivion of sleep, if he were allowed such.

"Hiwatari-kun."

Again her voice stopped him, and he looked back at her. She stood with her long hair curling about her shoulders, let down from the bun it had been put in for the dance. With her back to the light, her lovely face was cast into shadow. Even so, he could see every detail of her visage, soft and fair, turned to him unwaveringly.

"I never... thanked you," she said, tucking her hands again behind her back. "For what you did, while I was in the mirror. I tried to forget being in there, because... it made me think things I didn't want to. But... because you came in... or, well, what you did... if you hadn't come in after me, I think maybe I... wouldn't have gotten out. So you saved my life, Hiwatari-kun."

A smile, angelic and gentle, lit her face. "Thank you, Hiwatari-kun. I'm very grateful for what you did... and I'm also... I'm glad that I know you."

He watched, and felt it again. The strange warmth, creeping ever so slowly into his chest, like the time after he caught her when she fell from the tower. Frowning, he turned his eyes away.

"Don't worry about it, Harada-san," he said quietly, and curled his uninjured hand into a fist. "I didn't do much."

"Hiwatari-kun."

How many times was she going to say his name? He looked at her again, waiting. The smile was gone, like a dream conquered by the reality of morning, but the gentleness remained.

"Take care of your hand, please?" she pleaded, earnestly, and his answer came of its own accord.

"I will."

The promise made, so easily for her, he turned again and walked away. This time, her voice did not call out his name.

Still, his feet stopped again. He looked at his bandaged hand, hanging at his side, and steeled himself.

"Harada-san."

"Yes?" she replied softly from behind him.

He inhaled, looking straight ahead, and then said quietly, "Goodnight."

"Goodnight. I'll see you tomorrow, Hiwatari-kun."

There.

There it was.

Her voice, saying his name.

His reason for living.


End file.
